White
by Momosportif
Summary: TibarnReyson oneshot. Reyson braves an unexpected battle and strays with reluctance from his pacifist path. Character's are Nintendo's. Hope you enjoy!


It was sudden. Abrupt.

The volley of arrows cut across the sky and tore into the flock mercilessly, ripping at feathers. The cacophony of squawks cut back in response and echoed across the forest below, one noise made of many and all of them pained. Somewhere below the re-setting of bows -ten or fifteen perhaps? He was not a militant so he couldn't be sure- was audible and another swarm of arrows soared up to bring the circling and screeching assembly down to Earth permanently.

Three swift inward pounds of his wings brought him to a halt so as to avoid colliding with a hawk who was spiraling out of control, one wing strangely crooked and gold eyes wide with shock. Another bird passed beneath him, beak wide in a cry he could not pick out from the many others like it and slammed into the falling one, giving it a slight, momentary lift and the pair ascended in an attempt to get out of range.

A wing brushed his head before a molting body crashed down on his back and something warm and heavy flicked across his eyes as the partially transformed bird plummeted into the canopy, arrow protruding from his chest.

It was blood, the hawk's blood.

For a second his wings betrayed him and stopped beating. Then they were flapping faster than they'd ever been forced to before, moving him in a panicked circle as he cast about wildly for the body- surely it wasn't dead, surely it wasn't dead, surely it wasn't-

The wind beneath, above, and around him disappeared before the contact and for the seconds it took for an arrow to chase away the meters between bow and target he thought he had been struck and was falling.

It was sudden. Abrupt.

He heard one shriek that could belong to no one but the hawk driving into him, the one cry that sounded different from every other. He realized, as he found his body forced across the sky and his wings forced into a steady upwards pull, why the sound was so singular.

It had no trace of fear.

The massive, proud back of the King of Hawks flexed as he brought his wings up and let loose a challenging cry to the forest below and was answered by the zips of arrows coming to meet his furious embrace and the solitary shaft already lodged through his moss-colored feathers, a shaft that would have been buried in a snowy chest if he was any slower.

The tiny form of Janaff arrived at his side, pecking nudging, swatting, screeching- doing everything and anything to get him to move before it clicked, before it sunk in- then Ulki descended to help, raking his talons inches over his back before clenching down hard and lifting him upwards while Janaff pushed with all his strength from below, striving to budge the heron before it came to him that-

The dark feathers of iron tipped shafts pulled flush with mottled green and Tibarn dove with a lusty scream of warning to the archers below as he crashed into the tree tops.

A piercing cry sounded, startling all three of the remaining birds, including the heron until he realized it was his own shriek, and- ripping out of Ulki's grasp, shifting out of Janaff's range- Reyson found himself suddenly free and rocketing towards the place the Hawk King had disappeared to before he knew what he was doing.

The world beneath the trees was dark and tight, branches everywhere, he wondered how the much larger bird he was pursuing could possibly maneuver, he wondered where he could possibly be, he wondered-

There he was, tearing as best he could in every direction, snapping and ripping up beorcs faster than they could follow but not fast enough. A trembling man aimed and fired, sinking an arrow deep in the bird's tense shoulder. Before the pitiful creature could notch another arrow he was hung upon a lower branch, motionless. But there were so many. A trembling man aimed and fired, a trembling man aimed and fired, and another, and another-

That same unusual shriek escaped Reyson's throat and he tore to the circle of archers, taking all the branches in his path with him, unaware of their blows, until, long neck stretched to it's fullest, he was upon them.

The muscles hunched then straightened as he reared his head back and down, beak closing on whatever it could reach, something warm and heavy and salty filling his senses and making him dizzy but he couldn't stop moving, lurching around to snap at whatever was still standing and daring to make the slightest of movements until his wings did betray him and he turned straight into a suffocating flurry of feathers that held him still when others couldn't have even approached him.

They were falling, he thought first, then landing, he realized second, landing on feet and not talons.

"Easy, easy… Easy, Reyson, easy." Tibarn's strong arms were around him securely, wings bending to encircle them in a wall of tawny feathers. Reyson could only stare at the small space of Tibarn's steadily rising and falling chest between his two partially clenched hands.

Bloody hands.

It was sudden. Abrupt.

He shoved away from the Hawk King, taking in his pierced wings and calm, stern expression and the corpse of a half-bird, half-man a few meters away. All of it was red. He looked at his hands in gross curiosity and then, unable to resist, put a finger to his face and watched it come away crimson. He fought the urge to swallow because he had no desire to taste his deed.

His hands left scarlet stains on his robes as they fell to his sides and he dragged his eyes up to Tibarn again.

He would not cry. He refused to. He couldn't.

"Reyson…" he stepped back as Tibarn approached and stepped back once more and once more as the king continued coming towards him.

His back hit a tree and for a moment they were both still, bright green glued to hard black.

"I-I killed…" His body began to shake uncontrollably and the rest of the sentence refused to come. He felt bark resisting his collapse as he started to slide to the forest floor but, unable to struggle, he found himself lifted, erect, and pressed back against Tibarn's chest.

The Hawk King could not allow the heron to fall at this moment, for his own pride. He would remember his first kill without shame; that was the honor due to a warrior and he refused to stand by and see otherwise.

"Reyson, it was only a matter of time…" Short, warm breaths fell against his skin steadily and he studied the branches above to keep from resting his chin on the scarlet speckled head. For his pride. "White is the hardest color to keep clean, Little Prince."


End file.
